


Catharsis

by fuck_you_kylo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Complex Grief, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Patricide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuck_you_kylo/pseuds/fuck_you_kylo
Summary: Brendol Hux is finally dead.Armitage Hux did not expect it to affect him much.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	Catharsis

Arranging Brendol’s death was easy, in the end. Hux had prepared for so long, waiting until the perfect moment. Phasma was an apex predator, and Hux had to keep her on a tight leash. He’d suffered years of nightmares that it got botched somehow, Brendol badly injured and enraged, Hux disarmed and slipping in puddles of blood as he tried to get away. He would wake up sweating and shaking and sure that he’d given himself away, somehow. Ren would always ask questions or try to comfort him, but Hux brushed him off. He’d walk the halls of the Finalizer for a while to calm down, then return to bed and dream that Phasma had ratted him out and Brendol was pounding on the door. But no. It was nothing like that, when the moment finally came. 

Brendol disintegrated in a bacta tank, and Hux saw to it that the remains got the same treatment as any other spoiled meat. Nevertheless, he attended the funeral rituals on Arkanis several days later, perfectly composed in his dress uniform with the gold epaulettes. He received the condolences of his father’s friends and colleagues. Bastards, every one of them. They couldn’t touch him anymore, though, so he received their salutes and wore his somber expression like a shield. At least Hux could pass his stoicism off as cultural; the Arkanians were not an effusive people. The first draft of his eulogy had been an unadorned litany of Brendol’s professional accomplishments with the barest references to his character, but to avoid suspicion he chose to add a few embellishments: “my dear father,” “a man of exemplary discipline,” “an ongoing inspiration to me.” He managed to get through it cleanly, without visible contempt, and no one was the wiser. 

Ren couldn’t go with him to the funeral; it wouldn’t have looked right. But when Hux returned to the Finalizer, Ren was there to greet him in the hangar. He was wearing his helmet, but under it, Hux could feel something in the way Ren was looking at him.

“Save it,” he muttered, so only Ren would hear. Hux was fine. It wasn’t as if Brendol’s death was a shock; he’d planned it for years. He didn't need Ren trailing behind him like a protective shadow. He certainly didn’t need Ren’s phantom fingers stroking his neck and shoulders as they walked down the hall. He just needed to get to his quarters and rest for a while. The two days on Arkanis were his first shore-leave in six years, he could afford another half-day. Just some rest. The atmospheric adjustment was giving him a headache. 

He entered his quarters and let Ren come in after him before shutting the door behind them. His chest was feeling a little tight, so he shrugged off his heavy dress uniform jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. He’d hang it up properly later. For now, he just wanted to lie down, so he dropped onto his bed with his boots dangling off the edge. Ren sat on the bed at Hux’s feet and pulled the boots off, then set them next to the closet, where Hux liked them. Hux pulled his knees up closer to his chest until he was loosely curled around a pillow. 

Brendol was dead.  


It was the first time he had allowed himself to think it: Brendol was dead. It was over. The feeling of safety made quick work of the walls Hux had worked so hard to hold up. He felt himself crumbling but was helpless to stop it. His narrow shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs, and he turned his face into the pillow. He hated himself for letting this happen in front of Ren, but holding the tears back was impossible. Ren lay down next to him and gathered him up in his arms, saying, “Okay. It’s okay, Hux. Let it out,” and the tenderness in his voice made Hux cry harder. Now it was like a dam bursting: anger at how he was treated for so long, regret that he didn’t kill Brendol with his own two hands, disgust at what he had to say at the funeral. It felt like all the pain he’d kept in since he was a child was coming out in wrenching waves. For once, he was glad he wasn’t alone. It would be too much to handle alone. So he let Ren hold him together, and the tears kept coming. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed. Ren said little, and Hux was grateful for it. By the time exhaustion caught up with him, Ren’s shoulder was thoroughly damp. He’d never felt so wrung-out. 

“He would have hated you,” he murmured into Ren’s neck.

“I know.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the onion article "Man Always Gets Emotional on Anniversary of Father's Death he Orchestrated."


End file.
